Persona Non Grata
by Spawn Guy
Summary: It's hard being yourself. It's even harder without any robots
1. Chapter 1

There was something immensely satisfying about smoke bombs Quentin Beck decided. He smirked to himself as the sun flashed off a No Smoking sign before it detonated.

Maybe it was the muffled impact of the grenade cracking open. Maybe it was the rush of the smoke escaping from the various bombs concealed around the bank. Maybe it was the release of the all that tension he'd felt over the weeks of casing the Midtown Bank, disguising himself as a maintenance worker (he'd like to think Chameleon would have been proud but he knew his old boss better than that) and planting the bombs, downloading the Tinkerer's computer virus to get those vault codes.

Maybe it was just the fact it was his own custom made green smoke pouring into the place just for him. After all the only thing more important than good timing was the right atmosphere. And Mysterio was all about the right atmosphere.

"Tibi gratias agimus quod nihil fumas!" It wasn't needed, and in truth all the voice activation code did was create a jet of smoke that dispersed from his cape and trailed in his wake, but it added to the illusion that he was forming out of the mist. Hey, if you had super powers (of a sort) then you flaunted them. Case in point; he struck a Darth Vader pose.

"Cower now, brief mortals, for it is I, Mysterio, master of the mystic arts!"

One of the many back guards (there was a lot more work in the security sector since the rise of the super criminal) levelled his piece directly at Mysterio's chest where the kevlar vest was hidden as his colleagues flanked him.

"Hold it _right_ there, buddy!"

"Insolent lackey! Kneel in the presence of your betters! Dormite!"

The acoustics of his helmet's voice amplifier sounded a little off. He'd have to have Phineas check that out. It had the desired effect though: every guard, cashier and civilian in the place slumped to their knees. He'd have to wait for the nerve gas and the release mechanism to recharge, but that dose had been strong enough to take out the Rhino. He should have plenty of time before the police arrived. A pity. He'd really been looking forward to using the robot.

"Excuse me sir, but I'm looking for Carnegie Hall. Would you happen to know the way? Been wanting to try this dance move all day."

The slight surge of excitement Mysterio experienced abated somewhat as he spun around to have Spider-Man's boots connect with his chest, sending him skidding into a potted plant. He stumbled upright, trying not to trip over the cape.

Spider-Man flipped bonelessly up to the ceiling, trying to keep out of range of the swirling smoke and any attempted sleeping spell.

"Gotta admit fish bulb, I missed ya. Or maybe I didn't!" He fired off a net from both web shooters.

"I think not, webs linger!" Mysterio thrust out a imperious hand. "Subsisto in nomen of diligo!"

The net warped and evaporated inches from the poised finger tips. Mysterio raised another hand. "Fulmina venite!"

Spidey dropped from the ceiling as an florescent light was incinerated.

"Huh…an acidic air based compound to melt my webs before they put you under wraps? Clever Misty, too bad I know all this hand to eye coordination is just to keep me from giving you a black eye."

He waded into the smog, trying to figure out what was a curl of smoke and what was a twirl of Mysterio's cape. A shadow rose up in front of him.

"The truest of believers have far weightier matters to consider than sullying their hands with mere hand to hand combat. However, if it is the personal touch you require…Nullae satisfactionis potiri non possum!"

The pockets of nano technology in his cape split open, sparking the Homunculi robots into existence and sending them rushing in a wave towards Spider-Man.

"Oh good, my favourite cliché." Spidey flopped backwards out of the mist, keeping his arms crossed over his head as giggling talons shrieked around him.

Satisfied, Mysterio turned away, hurriedly hacking his way into rear vaults. Then he hesitated, looking at a maintenance access door just a little up the hall. It would be a waste…

Spider-Man burst out of the clouds out in the foyer, smacking away a last babbling Homunculi and bounding towards him. Mysterio hurriedly threw down another smoke bomb, slamming the vault door shut but not locking it. Spidey squinted through the churning smoke filling the entire building, then slapped his palms flat against the door, digging a toe into the suspicious smelling carpet and bracing himself.

_If I know Mr -Now- You- See- Me- Now- You- Don't, he'll have an escape plan no one saw coming. Which is why I better surprise him first. _

The trick here wasn't to try and pull the door open. It was to push it in and eventually out of it's frame.

His costume arms almost ripped at the seams but the steel finally buckled, crashing into the vault and almost pitching Spidey in face first after it. The smoke rushed in to fill the room, but he managed to catch a glimpse of an unconscious security guard sprawled in front of an open deposit box. There was no sign of Mysterio. He started heading towards the guard, then ducked as his Spider Sense flared suddenly.

A lightning bolt streamed over his head, tingling his hair under the mask and scorching the rows of deposit boxes. He bounced further into the room and to the side, spinning to glare at his reflection in Mysterio's helmet as he strode out of what looked like a closet and into the room.

_Looks like he doubled back. _

He fired another a web net, lower this time. The impact slapped the strands around Mysterio's hands and knocked him off his feet.

"Let's see you throw around some thunder now, sparky."

Mysterio complied.

His entire body erupted with electricity. Spider-Man cried out, spasmed and was sent hurtling back into the vault. The last thing he saw as he crashed and slumped down the wall was the guard smirking at him and getting up.

When he opened his boiling eyes the vault was empty and the smoke was starting to disperse. He leant against the vault frame for support, trying to keep his circulation going without breathing in the stale confetti taste of the smoke.

_Huh. It's getting harder to tell what I hate most about that guy. His gremlins, or his machinery._

He prodded the burnt out Mysterio robot with his foot, wincing at the slight sensation of static.

_Guess he _did _double back after all…_

He caught sight of the clock over one of the tellers windows.

_And now I'm late for school. I'd ask if this morning could get any worse but that'd be asking for it._

---

_I had to ask._

He'd been late for school. Flash had laughed. Sally had sneered. Liz had…

He hadn't actually looked at her. What right did he have?

"Hey, Tiger."

Peter shifted. He squinted slightly as Mary Jane sat next to him, her hair reflecting the sunlight into his face. The skin under his eyes itched with the weight of his mask lenses and a missing week's worth of sleep.

"Hey, MJ. Welcome to the shallow end of the Midtown social shark tank."

She smiled sympathetically at the strained effort in his sleepy smile.

"Yeah, I'd noticed. My clique's kinda all over the place too right now. Glory broke into the doghouse to let Kenny know she hasn't forgiven him for getting detention and ruining their big date tonight, Flash is staring at that empty trophy case again instead of Sha Shan and…well, I kinda saw Liz in the middle of a crowd down in the hall and she looked like she could use some alone time."

He felt her hand steadying his shoulder, and was grateful even though he didn't need it.

"And you're up here alone."

"Just like old times." Peter sighed. "Thanks though MJ, really. Although after what went down between me and Liz kind of…blew up, I guess it kind of should be that way. Not like I deserve better. Although _Puny Parker _was better than _Punking Petey_."

Leave it to Flash to get inventive. Then again, just because he'd broken up with Liz first, Peter wasn't entirely sure he could blame him.

She squeezed slightly.

"Painfully obvious advice for a painful problem, Tiger, but have you tried maybe…talking to her?"

"I don't have the benefit of negotiating speaking terms with Ms Allen because you need a spine for walking up to people and signing peace treaties and stuff like that." Peter unconsciously crushed the paper his lunch had come in then let it flop lifelessly onto the roof. "Not sure I'd get the chance to anyway. Even the other nerds are at war with me for what I did."

Even though Liz had turned it into _her_ dumping _him_. Maybe everyone could smell the guilt. Going over all the mistakes he'd made in their relationship felt worse than a punch from the Molten Man.

"I hear ya, Tiger. I hear ya." There was something uncharacteristically sad in MJ's smile, and maybe if he hadn't been so tired Peter would have caught it. "Everybody has bad days. Everyone else tells you there coming but you never really manage to brace for 'em. And it can be stuff like not knowing who your friends really are to your mom--not having time to pack your lunch right."

She waved the small bag in front of him humorously.

"Trade ya?"

"No way, Red. The way my day's been going, this hoagie's probably the only thing in the whole of M3 that doesn't want to squash me with the rock I'm hiding under."

He took a bite, grimacing hard enough to make Tombstone back away.

"Uck. Mayo. I asked Aunt May to hold off on the mayo. Guess that's the other thing. If I can't talk to people how am I supposed to get them to listen?"

"There's always Hobie Brown."

Hobie turned away from his conversation with Mindy McPherson two tables away, eye brows raised. Peter gave a hurried wave that almost fried itself with the air friction, then grinned humourlessly at Mary Jane.

"Thanks, but I kind of like to hang out with a guy who actually let's you take part in the conversation, y'know?"

"Tell me about it. But you can't stay wrapped up in your own problems forever, Pete. Defiantly not everyone else's."

Peter felt the burning, guilty weight of the costume under his shirt.

"Just a glutton for punishment," he muttered more to the table top than to MJ ", that's me."

"You are who you are, Tiger. And trust me, I've known worse." That made Peter hesitate, face her. But she was already standing up, the smile back in place, perhaps a little gentler. "C'mon, they installed a shiny new soda machine downstairs. Wanna go rust our teeth and wash the taste of mayo out our mouths?"

Peter looked up briefly, almost sank even further into his chair, then grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder to follow her.

"Yeah. Got plenty of washing to do, I guess."

_Downing's more like it. _

He'd been late for school, but that hadn't been the worst part. Not even Mysterio had been the worst part.

The worst part was seeing Harry and Gwen together across the roof.

---

Mysterio loved the doors to the Master Planner's lair. The dramatic whoosh noise when the motion sensors picked you up and commanded the doors to part for you…Heaven!

The main lab was not.

"You're late."

And the company was less than desirable.

The Tinkerer glared from his swivel chair and carefully put down the intricate pieces of machinery he'd been working on in case it exploded.

"You were supposed to be in and out of there, no theatrics. No. _Robots._"

"Oh Phineas, oh Phineas, don't be so fri-vo-lous." Mysterio sang, dumping the stuffed duffel bags from the bank onto the work table. The Tinkerer flailed, grabbing the junk before it hit the floor.

"Emphasizing the pronunciation of a word doesn't make it rhyme with my name, Quentin."

Mysterio leant in close to match the Tinkerer's glare, and revealed silently in triumph as the size of his dome forced the older man to back away slightly.

"But it's fun. And I almost wouldn't enjoy being a super villain if I didn't get to make my own entertainment."

And he shouldn't have to do that. He was _Mysterio_ after all, and where was he? Bunking with the remains of the Sinister Six, pulling small time highest and squatting in a refurbished high tech basement under a condemned Tri Corp R&D lab.

Tinkerer wasn't letting this go.

"I was serious about those robots. _They_ are not for your personal entertainment and they're twice as expensive as your smoke pellets. You'd hardly be effective without those, would you? You're barely competent _with_ them."

"And yet, by all accounts, I managed to not only make a clean getaway," Mysterio pulled a coin from behind Tinkerer's ear, flipping it, slapping it down onto his wrists, then displaying it proudly in his other hand. Heads. ",but also to turn Spider-Man's world upside down."

"If you're quite finished…" Vulture straightened up in his chair, dimming the lights as the wall sized monitor in front of him hummed to life. Various profile shots from the Daily Bugle archives flickered on screen.

"Here's the situation as we know it; the Master Planner is currently in custody alongside Silvermane, while the Big Man remains under technical house arrest. We can assume the-ahem-'New' Enforcers still maintain their ties with him even if Hammerhead doesn't."

An avian eyebrow was raised in Tinkerer's indifferent direction before focusing back on the screen.

"Rhino and Electro are similarly incrassated along with this Molten Man character, and even if it wasn't apparently inactive we don't know enough about this Venom creature to invite it in and bolster our ranks."

Kraven took one look at the bone white teeth in the gaping black maw and growled an unconscious snarl. It was nothing compared to the snarl that briefly flashed across Vulture's face at the last image: the Green Goblin.

"I take it I don't need to explain to anybody where the Doctor or I would have us stand with Osborn even if he was still actively in control of the Big Man's territory. The Sandman is still missing, which is why we've been so dependant on you, Kraven, Mysterio, to continue many of our operations."

A dramatic twirl of his cloak, and Mysterio almost decked the Vulture with his low bow.

"No need to thank me."

"You bulge with pride like a bullfrog!" Kraven towered over Mysterio, uncurling a long feline arm to jab an accusing claw at his chest. "If not for our current situation a toad like you would have no place in this pack but to pick scraps from out bounty!"

"Really, chatty tabby? Because I can't help but notice I seem to have been getting the lion's share of our exploits." Behind the dome, Beck smirked at the slight curl of Kraven's stretched lip. "In fact you're supposedly the most skilled of any of us. Why do you think that is? Could it be that, really, for a hunter, you're a mere extra when compared to my unquestionable talent as the leading man?"

He paused, idly twirling his cape between his fingers.

"Or super villain. Whatever. My point being that despite our 'situation', given my time in the limelight and your's in the shadows…"

He flicked the edge of the cape into the air, his grin widening enough to almost show through the glass as Kraven flinched back slightly.

"…it seems I'm the best chance this pack has."

"Your skills with misdirection if not subterfuge have been well noted, Mysterio." Vulture snapped, regaining their attention with a demanding hand. "And after careful consideration of your performance this morning, the Tinkerer and I have decided that you are the best operative for the following operation…"

The screen flickered again, becoming a bird's eye view of the Midtown bank from a helicopter camera. Mysterio was disappointed the sound was off. The bulletin text added a nice flourish to his name though.

"As you may already know, the Manfredi family were almost as notorious as we are for…developing the right tools for the job. Those battle suits they developed alone could give Shocker's vibro suit a run for it's money, and allow an operative to take twice as much." The news feed cut to an scanned set of blueprints.

"And this is the shining jewel in the crown of the our premiere crime family's dirty little secret. The tablet of time. An ancient artefact discovered in the jungles of Mesoamerica and shipped to modern day New York when Silvermane emigrated from his ancestral home in Sicily, said to imbue the owner with the secrets of power and immortality."

An awed hush filled the stifled air of the underground lab, bathed in the blue glow of the monitors. The smooth sound of one of the Tinkerer's droids extracting Mysterio's real objective out of it's bag and passing it to Vulture dissolved it like cobwebs.

"All epic exaggerations naturally." Toomes' smile grew slightly more crooked as he held up the glass frame. "Or perhaps rather a metaphor. This half of the tablet contains intricate instructions for producing the Manfredi empire's technology."

He let that sink in. It didn't have much affect on anyone except the Tinkerer, almost vibrating through the floor with anticipation. Mysterio tried to subtly gather his cape about him. There was always a slight chill in the air whenever Toomes got like this…

"We have come far with the Master Planner's own not inconsiderable designs, but with secrets such as these we could go even further. The secret to power and immortality indeed."

Vulture's shadow fell across the wall as he held the frame aloft, a black and blood red priest displaying new commandments. In all honesty the thing looked so cracked and pockmarked it would probably give you a headache trying to follow every one of the lines, but if you saw the cracks as separate pieces on separate layers…

"It can not be argued that with so many of us currently residing in the Vault, our recourses surely need replenishing." Vulture continued "And we would certainly not be unrewarded if we were to return the Manfredi's property to them for the right price. Or the Big Man. After we had satisfied our own curiosity of course. With the wealth of knowledge contained in this tablet we could develop--"

"Better illusions? Better robots?"

Beck cursed. He'd forgotten Mysterio's accent in his excitement.

"The possibilities are not limited. Not with this single piece of the puzzle to be exact. With the complete set…" Vulture gestured towards the prints on screen. "Well. I doubt even your considerable imagination could envision the applications of this technology, Mysterio. Nevertheless, as the means to the Age of the Super Criminal's own Industrial Revolution, or simply a bargaining chip in the upcoming underworld politics, the tablet is surely more valuable combined than divided. Which is why we need to make our move tonight before news reaches any one of our competitors that this morning was more than just a simple bank robbery."

Beck was almost surprised when the image changed again: an unassuming office block.

"Gentlemen, the offices of Landau, Luckmanand Lake, one of the Manfredi's many representatives, and also one of two possible locations for the second half of the tablet of time. Security is tight, and our resources are considerably low, but with our best operative I'm more than sure we'll have what we need within hours."

A slight sniff from the beak like nose.

"Assuming Spider-Man doesn't interfere, but events are already in motion to prevent just that."

Kraven growled.

"Let him come," Mysterio preened ", twice the tablets, twice the chance to send him away shaking in his tasteless red boots!"

"That's exactly the sort of attitude we were expecting from you, and why we are entirely confident you will be capable of fulfilling your mission even with the minor field resources we will provide you and no animatronics assistance whatsoever."

There was a silence so powerful the hushed sound of traffic trickled down and flooded the room.

"No…robots…" Beck said slowly. The strangled note to his voice was mutilated by the voice almightier into something worse.

"I'm afraid that last duplicate you had stored at the Midtown Bank was the only one currently functioning. But for an agent with your skills…"

Toomes let that hang in the air for a moment, like an eagle tossing a turtle into the air, giving it a few seconds of shrieking relief and terrible freedom before the slow clawing realisation of gravity…

"Of…of course…" Beck rallied, suddenly awfully aware of everything in the room, how hot it was inside the costume, the freezing subterranean air, the hum of electronics, the smell of Kraven's fur. "I…although if not for, um, replenishing our resources…I'm sure I can…"

"If not for you they wouldn't _need_ replenishing." The Tinkerer had always been good a picking his moments like that.

"Very well!" Beck snapped, gathering Mysterio's cape around him and trying to keep his shoulder pads from shaking. "Therefore I shall retire to my quarters to prepare for tonight's festivities!"

"I'm sure." Vulture repeated. Smiling.

Beck nodded, then remembered none of them would see it outside his dome.

"Anon!" he announced, sweeping out of the room.

To prepare for the mission. That was it.

Not at all because he was feeling like he might just throw up. Inside his helmet. Not at all.


	2. Chapter 2

"I assure you, I'm feeling perfectly _fine_."

Dr. Dorian Bromwell forced his eye back in their sockets slightly to keep them from rolling.

"If I had a nickel for every heart patient who told me that I'd be able to quit practising and wouldn't need to keep making house calls like this to pay my rent."

May Parker pushed his stethoscope away with brittle yet firm fingers.

"I know perfectly well that doctors don't make house calls anymore, and it's all done with machines."

They shared a smile. Bromwell reluctantly moved past the moment into the now.

"So what's really troubling you?"

"Oh, it's nothing too big. Two problems actually, both rather small. But you know how it is with small things. They get so big."

Bromwell remembered how slowly the minutes until his last shift has gone and how quickly things had gotten completely out of his control the night they brought in Max Dillon from ESU. He nodded.

"It's Ben…" May trailed off, her eyes unfocused behind her glasses. Eventually she reached up, removing them, and sighed. "I suppose even after all this time it still hasn't sunk in. I peeked ahead in the calendar to make sure I remembered to pick up the advance from the cook book people, and it seemed like our anniversary was so far away. And the day…it happened just seemed like only…"

Her grip relaxed slightly around the handle of her tea cup.

Dorian gently placed a hand over it.

"Ben was a good man, May. You two were lucky to each end up with someone so understanding. That's how a good relationship begins. I'm sure wherever he is he'd want you to be…"

"Oh, I know all about _that_." May tried to swallow the slight derisive sound midway out of her mouth, sipping the tea and letting it sooth the inside of her throat. "But he and Richard were always close. After that awful business with the plane I'd swear he became even closer with Peter. It was as if Richard had never left, Ben was such a natural born father."

She replaced her glasses, looking critically at the distorted reflection in her cup.

"Sometimes I can't help but wonder how much of a mother I really am. I don't want to smoother the poor boy of course, but he's growing so fast and I can't help but wonder if I've done too little."

Bromwell gave her hand a slight squeeze reassuringly.

"I can't speak for Peter, but from what I've seen he seems a responsible boy. For instance the first incident of your condition. He may not have been there when he said he would, but he got there."

"Oh, it's not Peter's sense of responsibility I'm worried about." May smiled sadly slightly. "In fact some times I'm worried the poor boy tries to shoulder too much. He's got a good head on his shoulders, but I'm afraid the problem may be with _his _heart this time around."

"Ah." Bromwell nodded understandingly. "Young love. Nothing _I _can prescribe, sadly."

May nodded, not really looking at him. He got up, taking how own cup to the sink. He'd have made an attempt on hers, but he'd probably have broken his hand.

"Where _is_ Peter exactly?"

"I'm not sure I know." May glanced at the new clock over the counter. "But it's not toolate. And he was doing well enough with his curfew last semester."

"Mmm." Dorian said, but whatever that meant he didn't expand on it. "Well May, however either of you feels, I'd recommend being as honest with each other as you can afford to be. It's years like this people find out who they really are."

"Yes…" May finished her cup, gently setting it down. "Cake?"

"I _am_ on kind of a diet…"

"Banana cake?"

"With cream, please."

---

There was something movies almost always forgot to really tell you Quentin Beck thought as he shuffled across the lobby floor. The way your heart tried to bounce out through your ribs, the screaming black hole that exploded in your stomach, the sweat…

No one ever mentioned the sweat. It was ruining his suit. Maybe that was why it didn't feel like it fit. Maybe the sweat had shrunk it.

"Hey, you new here?"

He forced himself to keep moving. The woman behind him frowned.

"Ex_cuse_ me, I said you new?"

Beck made a sound that might have been a yes. She was following him now, trying to get a look at his lowered head. People were glancing at them, catching snapshots of his awkward caged sprint.

"Just saying, if you are then you should be on the list. I think you should be on the list. They usually tell me these things so I can put them on the list." Beck tried to stop his gritted teeth from exploding as she scribbled something down on The List.

"So where're you going again?"

"Bathroom break." he grunted, trying to keep his accent general. Why did it feel like he was trying too hard? Fading into the background wasn't this difficult with the Chameleon.

His shoes screamed at him the entire elevator ride up. His hand almost slipped off the door as he slipped his way in. His hands had started shaking too, he almost dropped his briefcase. He took a look at himself at the fingerprint smudged mirror. They always had said he just never had the right look for the part, whatever it had been. He could see what they'd meant. His bowl cut was… unfurling. He didn't look at all like a lawyer. Didn't look like anything.

He didn't look like Mysterio. With no robots…no way out if things went wrong…he didn't look like a super villain. And if he wasn't a super villain, then what was he?

No time to ask. He was on a time table.

Simple enough, right? Gear up, hit the smoke generator he'd planted in this bathroom's ventilation system and use the cover to tear the place apart until he found the safe or locker or whatever they'd hidden the other half of the tablet. Mysterio, Sensational Master of the Mystic Arts, Strikes Again, right?

He breathed, long and deep until it almost hurt, unfolded the jumpsuit, gauntlets and cape from the cases false compartment. He dressed hurriedly, trying to work around the toilet, then hit the stud hidden in the briefcase's handle.

Nothing happened. Then a muffled explosion. People started screaming upstairs.

He was on the wrong floor. He'd locked himself in the wrong cubicle. The wrong bathroom.

He checked his watch. No time. He'd just have to speed up his search when everything went down.

With shaking hands, Quentin Beck unpacked the two halves of the Mysterio helmet, gently clasped them together around his head, breathed in as the oxygen regulator kicked in, and stored as confidently as he could out of the Ladies Room as tendrils of green smoke began to curl throughout the building.

---

Spider-Man stared impassively down at the streams of late night traffic, lazily arcing over the gap between buildings and flinging himself into the air. And to think he used to look forward to this.

_Time was swinging around as the ol' web head would have been just what Peter Parker needed to take the edge off. Now, not so much._

He landed on a nearby gargoyle and stared aimlessly down at the traffic.

_Is that because these powers aren't all new and shiny anymore? Or maybe it's just normal._

He launched himself out towards a row of tower blocks, swung past the Eyrie Building, and continued heading downtown.

_This is all hormones is what this is. I'm over reacting. _

He grabbed a nearby radio tower support and spun around it so fast he almost snapped himself in half as he let go and hurled himself over the next five roofs before spinning the next line.

_Totally. I mean, just because Harry and Gwen are…dating doesn't mean I can't still hang out with them, right? _

He slowed as he passed a jewellery store, making sure everything was depressingly normal before trying to throw himself back into the rush of web swinging.

_That's fair, right? We've been friends longer than me and Eddie. Especially _better _than me and Eddie, even back when Harry was on Globulin Green. We got through that…relatively okay. Can't have been fair to come off that and then loose your dad. _

He realised he had no idea where he was and started swinging back the way he'd come, landing crouched on the nearest wall. He lingered there longer than he had to, ignoring the stone chill through his gloves.

_But is it fair that I might loose Gwen now? That the two of us can't even bring ourselves to make eye contact in case we break Harry in half all over again? Is it fair that I'm stuck out here wondering that even without all that, would Spider-Man mess it up with Gwen like he did with Liz, or would Peter Parker do that just fine on his own anyway?_

Late night workers stared out at him from office windows as he began the accent to the roof.

_Gah! Wanna bet even Venom and Chameleon don't have these kinds of schizoid issues?_

He reached the roof, looking around. He recognized it as close to the Tri Corp headquarters where Doc Ock had gone after the Megalo pack. Off in the distance the lights and shadows of Coney Island shimmered just behind where the moonlight met the water.

_Thanks subconscious. Really. Don't suppose it'd be too much to ask for something to, I dunno, happen so I can feel like a super hero again?_

He cocked his head slightly at a familiar sound, back flipping clean across the roof to perch on the other end. Green smoke fountained up from some fancy looking office building. Darker smoke tinted it a vague purple, growing darker and thicker at the upper levels, drifting to the sky. He recognised the sound. Fire alarm. Recognised the smoke too.

_Time to clean out some cobwebs._

---

Of course he'd plant the giant smoke bomb under a central power line. And of course the force of the blast would knock it loose, sending it into a toilet bowl. And of course the sparks would start a fire. A big one. Of course.

Beck fought his way through panicking lawyers following calmly laid down escape routes, trying to keep his arm steady as he tapped the side of his helmet to bring up his HUD uplink. It was difficult, there was lots of jostling.

After triple checking the blueprints of Landau, Luckmanand and Lake he thought he'd gone blind after he'd shut down the display, but it was only a delayed reaction from the sprinkler system. Perhaps his luck was changing.

Ahead of him an entire section of ceiling sparked and collapsed, pulling a fracturing line of sprinklers down with it like a led weight dragging down an arm. He pushed a scurrying security guard aside and swept into the office on his right like he meant it.

This was getting needlessly complicated, and also harder to see. He was begging to think he'd put his helmet on the wrong way round.

He tore through the office, knocking away paintings, dumping out filing cabinets…nothing! Just like the last five offices he'd checked on this floor. He had reached the right floor, right? His knees screamed from the insane rush up the criminally long flight of stairs, and his head was starting to ring from the fire alarm. The fire was right at this floor, starting to work it's way down. This could not possibly get--

Behind him the window over the overturned desk shattered.

"Okay, arson. That's a new one. Like your crimes against fashion weren't bad enough."

Beck whirled, raising both hands. "Tibi gratias agimus quod nihil fumas!"

He'd actually meant to make with the lightning. This was bad, he was getting his spells mixed up, loosing his mojo. And the bug just came charging out of the extra cloud, bringing his leg up. What was _with_ this guy a kicking him in the chest?

Then Spider-Man made contact, and Beck _really _wished it had been his chest the webs linger had been aiming at instead of his mojo.

"This dose not concern you Spider-Man! Depart!"

He thanked whatever god he didn't believe in for the voice amplifier maintaining Mysterio's voice. Spider-Man dangled from a webline smacked to the ceiling.

"Sorry, I promised my doctor I'd cut back on departing along with smoking. He recommended two doses of senseless violence though, so if it's all right with you…"

"Subsisto in nomen of diligo!"

The webline melted, dumping Spidey hard into the wreckage of the desk.

"Ha! Not so easy to follow the yellow brick road when someone sweeps it out from under your tasteless red--"

"Melt _this_, Dorothy!"

It was a petulant throw. To be honest if it hadn't had Spider Strength behind it the desk lamp probably wouldn't have struck Mysterio's wrist as hard as it did, the shrapnel punching through the gauntlet wrist.

Beck yelped as sparks and smog bloomed out of his wrist, almost propelling him through a wall. Spidey forced himself out of the wreckage, stopping short as the sprinklers finally spurted to life in this part of the building, distracting him. Mysterio gathered his cape around himself.

"Nullae satisfactionis potiri non possum!"

The homunculi yawned and stretched. They'd been getting bored in there, but now between the noise and the sprinklers they were just confused and mildly cranky. Beck cursed. The water must have shorted out most of his systems. He'd meant to summon ten, not three. They blinked at him.

"Don't look at me, you fools! Seize him!"

"Original, Misty."

The homunculi snickered amongst themselves.

_//Oooooooh, burn!//_

One of them sniffed.

_//Barbecue?//_

_//Nah! Fire.//_

_//Oh. Fire.//_

_//Fire?//_

_//Fire!//_

_//Nine one one! Nine one one!//_

_//Mama! Mama!//_

"Okay, this has all been adorable, but open mike nights over, boys." Spidey started forward, ignoring the insane itching of his wet costume. How long had they been at this? Less than five minutes? And all that was really left to do was take those little tinker toys apart, kick Mysterio right in his bubble head and…

Beck desperately lashed out with his other gauntlet.

"Dormite!"

Peter almost choked as his nose shut down behind the mask, slumping to his knees. The clashing feeling of the gas filling his lungs and the water knifing into his costume left him nauseous and disorientated. Sensing an easy target, the homunculi flocked around him, cackling and bowling him over as they clawed at him.

Soaked to the skin, sweating from the intense heat of the fire, and burning with rage at the complete _flop _this mission had turned into, Beck forced himself to his feet and ran, swiping at Mysterio's stupid face to clear the smog and grime, trying to find some way out of this madhouse without setting his cape on fire.

Spidey took in a cleansing breath and kicked one of the homunculi in it's adorable but annoying little stomach, sending it crashing into his twin and disintegrating. The third one dived at him, but he'd already been moving from the blaring of his Spider-Sense. The crumbling wall crushed it, the green plume of nano tech smothered by clawing flames. The building wasn't going to take much more of this. If it didn't collapse in on itself first the fire would eat it into nothing.

_Better bring the curtain down on the great and powerful Oz wannabe, and fast. Not that I'm not looking forward to turning him over to the NYPD, but this is turning into a job for your friendly neighbourhood fire department. _

Spider-Man leapt out into the corridor, fighting to keep Mysterio's trail in his mind, trying to imagine where he'd go. Pile of rubble up ahead, so doubled back, obviously. Stairwell? He caught a glimpse of purple through the glass of the double doors to a bullpen office and burst through, sprinting across the wall as a cubicle spontaneously combusted. He found himself in another hallway, nowhere else to go. He leapt around a corner, both web shooters ready.

"Okay Misty, fun's…"

The pun died in his throat.

Trembling in the lashing streams from the sprinklers, trying not to choke to death on the acrid purple taste of the combined smog and smoke, exhausted and more terrified than he'd been in his life, Quentin Beck held that stupid secretary from down in the lobby in front of him, one arm around her throat. The water danced evilly with the clawing sparks from his broken gauntlet, held inches from her face. He didn't even bother with the accent anymore.

"Stand back Spider-Man, or I swear I'll fry her head right off her shoulders!"


	3. Chapter 3

"He's not answering his phone…"

Gwen Stacy held her thumb hesitantly over the send key, debating the merits of a third text message. A fifth actual call would probably just as effective; not at all.

"That chem test must be pretty important."

Harry hadn't turned around from the couch, his eyes glued to the TV, but totally unfocused.

"It's not for M3." Gwen swallowed. She wasn't worried about keeping her voice even, she was worried at how easy it was. "I just need to check up on some things for Dr. Connors."

"You mean Warren, right?"

"Right."

Gwen's hand tightened around her cell. She hadn't know Harry had been keeping that up to date with her life.

"Everything okay in here?"

George Stacy stood in the doorway.

"Couldn't be better, sir." There was something about Harry's smile that made Gwen feel freezing and exposed in her own home.

George's eyes drifted to his daughters, stopping when she didn't quite meet his gaze.

"Okay then. Got to go. Just got a call."

"About this?" Harry moved a lot faster then either of them were comfortable with, turning up the volume.

"…_just reaching us now of what appears to be a fire orchestrated by the super villain Mysterio in the offices of Landau, Luckman and Lake. Although most of the firm's employees have been evacuated, police and fire crews are still keeping their distances, at least until they're certain of what role Spider-Man is currently playing in the…"_

"Yeah." Stacy quickened his pace, pulling his jacket on. "Harry, you'll probably have a wait for a ride home…"

"No big, Mr Stacy." Harry breezed. "I'll probably just call a cab now. Lucky I've got all this inheritance money to spend, since me and mom can't use any more of the funds Mr Menken's making at Oscorp."

He said it a bit too cheerfully, making Gwen wince.

"I'm sure." Stacy sounded distracted, pulling his badge into place. He raised his voice over the TV. "Gwen, dinners in the fridge, okay?"

"Okay…"

Gwen paused as George marched up to her, pulling her into a brief embrace.

"I'll be back soon sweetie." Her gaze drifted to Harry, then back to her father's firm eyes. "Be careful."

And then he was gone, leaving them alone, Harry still standing by the couch, not really looking at anything. But still smiling. After a while the sound of her dad's car faded away, and Harry stopped smiling. His eyes flashed to hers briefly, then lowered.

"I really should go." he mumbled, scooping up the remote and lowering the volume all the way down.

"Yeah." Gwen waited for a few seconds as Harry pulled on his own coat, then walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Harry…I really had a great time at the movie tonight."

"It was a play." Harry was smiling again.

"Play. Right, right. I, uh…wondered about the smell."

"So did I."

Harry still had the remote in his hand. He was looking at it instead of her.

There was a silence between them that really should have been awkward, and was starkly terrible because neither of them seemed sure what it was.

"Gwen…" Harry began.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She said hurriedly. "I, uh, I should really see if I can reach Peter."

She waited to see if this was really an okay subject to bring up, trying again before Harry said something.

"It's just not like him to disappear for so long."

She knew it was a stupid thing to say. That was exactly what Peter Parker did these days, and they both knew it.

"Yeah, Pete been such a reliable guy and all." Harry gently placed the remote back on the cabinet next to the sofa. "You'd think you could depend on him for _anything_."

Another silence.

Then Harry leant over and hesitantly kissed her on the cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Count on it."

He trudged out of the door without another word. Gwen glanced out of the window, but couldn't see a single hint of green. He couldn't have gotten down the street _that_ fast…

She went back to the phone, hesitating as she caught sight of the remote.

There was a slight dent at the base of the remote in the shape of a thumb print.

---

"You really don't want to do this Misty…"

Peter slowly lowered his hands, letting them hang limp at his sides. The air was probably too thick with Mysterio's leaking acid compound for his webbing to do any good anyway.

"I really wouldn't tell someone in my position what to do."

Even through the voice amplifier, Beck managed to keep his voice steady. His hand shook, not quite from the damaged gauntlet. The secretary stayed frozen in his hold.

Peter backed up slightly, uncertainly, then stopped as a gout of flame smacked against the wall behind him. Even if he got the woman away from Mysterio he wasn't sure where he'd take her. He needed to stall for time he might not be able to use. The floor was groaning under them.

"Okay then." It was bizarrely easy to talk with a calm he didn't at all feel. "How about I just ask you what someone in your position wants?"

It went quite. Even the sound of the flames and the sires seemed to peel back, fleeing the two faceless men staring uncertainly into each other. A final choking sob from the secretary sucked them back into reality. The sparks seemed even closer to her face than before.

Beck drew in a grating breath through the helmet.

"Here--here's where we find out exactly what kind of man our Spider is…"

He yanked her close to himself, suddenly, experimentally. Peter snapped forward and stopped in the same instant.

"I'll let her go if _you_ take her place for this thunderbolt in her stead."

Even if his costume wasn't soaking wet right now, Peter was sweating enough from the fire to be more conductive than a statue made from all three metals.

The woman was just as soaked. And there was always the fun little possibility that Mysterio's busted wrist would backfire and bust a whole lot more.

And even if he

Above them he heard the sound of the roof straining. Like pretty much everything around him right now. Cracks had started knifing through from Spider-Man's world into Peter Parker's life…and things were starting to sag through.

Literally.

Like, water mains, electrical cables…he checked further down, calculating. Looked behind him at the rubble blocking the stairwell at the far end of the corridor, hemming him in. No room to bounce around. No room to reach them if he tried anything fancy. No room to reach them if he tried anything crude. Only this moment, and the ultimately painful future after it held in Mysterio's clawed, sparking, trembling hand

_Yeah. Yeah, okay. _

His hands clenched into waiting fists, bracing.

"Take your best shot."

Mysterio's arm snapped out, trailing sparks through the gas filled air, aimed dead at the spider in the middle of Peter's chest…

"Fulmina ven--"

Spidey had already been moving on the F, charging down the corridor like a tidal wave.

That probably helped. Made Mysterio yank his arm up, involuntarily or instinctively, but never the less.

Up enough for the bolt to miss by a few seconds. Up enough for Peter to jump, up and over the bolt, curling into a ball so tight it felt like his bones would splinter into his organs.

Up enough to hit the exposed steam pipe jutting out of the decimated ceiling, jumbled in among the now soaking wet electrical wiring.

Peter really hoped it was his Spider-Sense that slowed everything down like that, because if not he really was as lame as Flash had been saying all this time. It also gave him more time to take in the almost palpable feeling of the shockwave.

Actually scratch that, the shockwave was all too palpable. Even the burst of steam that almost annihilated everything the shock wave didn't. He slammed his eyes shut, diving into the adrenaline charged hyper seconds of Spider-Sense, Mysterio a sketchy outline of instincts at the front of his brain as the shockwave accelerated him, closing the gap between them. He felt the charge of another bolt coming, but Mysterio would never get he chance to aim.

He flipped, eyes snapping open at the searing heat that bled though his shirt and almost melted his ribs. His clenched right fist shattered through Mysterio's helmet, bowling the creep over while his other hand grabbed the poor lady by her suit's shoulder, dragging her into the air with him.

The steam caught up with them, crashing down on everything and obliterating all sense of direction. Surprised, Spider-Man flinched back involuntarily and was pitched forward into the ground as the shockwave caught up.

For uncountable seconds everything was just the warm breathless world inside the mask, then he straightened up, expecting breathing to get easier but met only with the dry texture of the fire.

_Knew that'd be painful…'least it's an improvement over that wall paper. When Mysterio has better taste, it's time to change decorators. _

That was easy, keep joking. Don't think about how big a risk you just took. He checked over his shoulder, squinting through the pain and light and steam. It seemed to have the desired effect. The blast had cleared the wreckage out the stairwell, punching a hole through the floor and into the office below as an added bonus. No sign of Mysterio, but even assuming the jerk was conscious the steam spewing from the remains of the ceiling should provide plenty of cover. Assuming he didn't start firing blind.

Big risk. And still plenty left with what little time this building had left. Where was the secretary?

She was just a little ahead of him, scrambling for an office at the very end of the corridor and clutching her wrist. She froze as he staggered to his feet and caught up.

"Come on, I'll get you out of here. It's okay."

She whimpered, clutching her wrist even tighter. Spidey leant back a little, hands held up placatingly.

"Really. Would this face lie to you?"

The steam evaporated to a transparent mist, almost invisible as the headache light of the fire smacked back into the world. Peter almost leapt out of the costume as electronics started imploding behind the walls, cracks darting through the walls, the sagging ceiling, the trembling floor.

"Lady, I'm not kidding around anymore, this place is coming down. We've gotta speed up! NOW!"

He grabbed her wrist with all the speed and subtlety of a lightning bolt striking a branch. Her yelp almost shattered his mask lenses, but he opened his ears to the down pouring chaos around him, flinging her onto his back, but still grasping her wrist as hard as he could as her nails bit into his neck.

He tensed the second they hit the lower floor, the momentum hovering in his ankle, bouncing into the air and out through a shattered office window. Her scream was a white noise sound even in the stark outside air, away from the death throws of the building.

He shifted her around, holding her close and firing from both shooters, weaving a web chute as fast as he could and grunting as their bodies jerked sharply from the slowing momentum. They caught a thermal, gliding to the sidewalk.

Captain Stacy came up to him, said something he didn't understand but nodded at anyway, then scooped the trembling woman up and away. She stared at him, freezing up when he raised a hand to show he was okay.

He looked up at the crumbling building, adrenaline burning away with the ornate façade. He wasn't sure he could blame her. First Mysterio, then himself, surrounded by fire…who wouldn't be terrified? Even of a super hero. The inhuman way he moved. The colour of his costume in the fire. The risks he'd taken because…he wasn't sure why he'd taken them.

All this stuff with peter Parker had capsized into Spider-Man's world, and the result was he and an innocent woman almost didn't walk away from Mysterio. _Mysterio! _The guy who made Doc Ock look tame. What was wrong with him?

Nothing.

Nothing should be this wrong with him, and nothing was. He was a super hero. He saved a life tonight. But because he was a high schools student this morning, he almost didn't. He could never stop being Spider-Man, but there was no way he could stop being Peter Parker.

Could he?

Everything was wrong with one half of himself and neither was ever really in sync, but he didn't know which one he'd get rid of, if at all.

He moaned low in his throat, groaning enough to vibrate loose his molecular structure and melt into the sidewalk. He forced his arms to move, not waiting for Stacy and swinging away, forgetting about Mysterio. Let him fry.

_Any other night I'd probably wonder what bubble head was after. Tonight…I could care less._

---

Quentin Beck flinched as his hacking cough echoed slightly inside the remains of Mysterio's helmet. Disgusted and craving air he tore it from his shoulders and tossed it behind him. It shattered, the pieces scattering across the abandoned parachute built into his ragged cape.

Beck stumbled down the alley behind the burning ruins of Luke, Luckman and Lake, feeling nothing, hearing nothing, seeing nothing. A non man. His broken gauntlet had stopped sparking, dead along with all feeling in his hand. The other one didn't seem to want to work.

Strip away the illusions and throw him up against something as primal as a fire, the threat of jail, and what was he?

Just another thug hiding behind a woman.

Enraged, Beck rammed a fist against the alley wall, frustration shattering at the pain he really should have expected. He stared long and hard at the brickwork pattern etched into his blistered hand like a locomotive barring down on a baby rabbit.

A spot light slammed down on him.

"Freeze!"

Beck glared out through his fingers as the vague shadows of approaching cops, then slumped to his knees, hands held up.

They'd take him away. Probably not even to the Vault. But at least he'd know what he was in there.

---

George Stacy nodded at officers Carter andDeWolff as they led someone in the wreckage of a Mysterio costume to a parked squad car. If the perp looked uncomfortable now he'd be a wreck by the time they got him to a prescient. After the last couple of fake outs they'd put him through an extensive check to make sure he was human. No more robots. The mayor had even gone so far as to take out an extensive recycling policy on the things so they wouldn't seem like such a waste.

He made his way through the rushing fire fighters, leaning against his Oldsmobile and acknowledging the CSI

"Little early for you boys, isn't it Cooper?"

A snort. "If it wasn't us, it'd be the Bugle. Not that they'd bother. Way this baby's going we won't have any answers until morning. Seems pretty open and shut anyway: super villain opens his big yap, super hero saves some girl and shuts him up. End of story.

If only, Stacy though dryly. It was all too easy to think dryly around a fire. He noted the direction Cooper had come from and indicated the flashing lights of the small city ambulance lights and EMTs.

"How's she doing?"

"Not too good. Don't know what she went through but it can't have been good."

"Meaning…"

"Something grabbed her wrist. Something strong. Way too strong. Almost crushed the poor kid. Good thing Spider-Man showed up, eh?"

Stacy went still.

"George?"

He shook himself.

"Yeah, yeah…I guess so. Thanks Ray."

He climbed into the car and took off. He needed to get home, to his study. He did his best thinking in his study.

He knew he wouldn't have any answers by morning either.

---

"Careful now."

Vulture gingerly took the glass case from Kraven's claws and almost dropped it on the van floor. He swallowed the sheepish smile burning at his face. Adrian Toomes didn't do that anymore, Vulture didn't.

He steadied the case, wiping away an offending smudge, revealing the second half of the tablet of time. It seemed to sing in his hands, eager for it's twin.

"Calypso and I have fulfilled our part of the bargain," Kraven rumbled ", do not contact us until you have better need of Kraven's skills."

"I'll keep that in mind." Toomes muttered, looking up, but Kraven was already gone. Probably skulking in the shadows looking for a way to the rooftops. He willed some life into his old arms and slammed the van doors shut, glad of the van's warmth. Even with the heat of the burning Manfredi warehouse he'd hate to fly home in the night cold.

The van pulled away, leaving the industrial sites on the borders of New York behind, taking the unmarked roots and back roads. Toomes ran an appreciative hand over the tablet.

"An exemplary effort from all involved, I feel Phineas."

"Glad you think so." The Tinkerer clipped some unassuming device to the steering wheel, removing his hands. The wheel kept turning. "I'm going to get some sleep now if you don't mind. It's been a long night."

"Longer for Mysterio I should imagine." Toomes smirked. "Not a bad event as preventative measures go."

"Actors." Mason muttered, flashing a grin almost wider than Kraven's.

"My thoughts exactly. Had we allowed his grandstanding along on our mission we would have fallen, hard. And I hardly think he'd appreciate the skill of the Da Vinci designs hidden in the layers of this tablet the Manfredi family used to rob rich and poor alike in 16th century."

He delicately placed the tablet in the holding crate they'd set up for it.

"Entirely useless of course. But while that bungler Beck kept that irritating arachnid preoccupied, we showed the world that with simply three agents we were capable of effectively raiding not just a heavily guarded complex but tangling Spider-Man up within a web of our own. And Mysterio will be far easier to direct after a few weeks in prison reminds him to depend on resources _we_ provide rather than his own good luck."

Vulture leant back in his seat. Smiling.

"Soon the entire world will no who we are….forever."

---

"I should _so_ be in bed by now…"

Flash smirked, gently slipping a muscular arm around Sha Shan, warming her as he drew her closer.

"You're 16 and you're telling me you've never snuck out before?"

"Some of us _want_ to get up in time for school, QB." Her smile was a softer yet stronger mirror of his own. "Although maybe not tomorrow. I'm going to be in so much trouble with my dad for being out this late."

"I'm always in trouble with my dad." Flash said far too honestly. He desperately tried to think of something else to say. Since this was Flash Thompson it took him awhile.

"You're pretty quiet. Been quite all night. Where's the impressive after dinner conversation of Midtown's star Mustang?"

"You're the only person I've never had to impress." Flash said without any kind hesitation. He gave into temptation since she seemed to be waiting for it, and let some of the quarterback charm seep into his voice.

"Come on, you're not saying the rare sight of the late night karaoke at the Silver Spoon, toped off by getting escorted back by your's truly after we stopped laughing enough to order coffee wasn't a great way to wrap up a night."

"Not going to lie, I had fun." Sha Shan's eye brows rose as facetiously as her smile. "You even paid for the subway."

"I know how to treat a lady right." Flash's mood soured instantly. "Unlike some people."

"You should lay off Peter. He probably feels lousy enough as it is." Sha Shan wrapped her arms around Flash's tenderly, her voice soothing. The slight outbreak had been too sudden.

"He should." Flash's face could have been carved from stone. "You just don't jerk people around like that, even if you're the king of the jerks."

"I though Liz dumped _him_."

"She'd like ya to."

"'Cause I know her." Flash squeezed his eyes shut. "Look, we didn't come out here for that. We're gonna get enough of school and everything else tomorrow. Right now, it's just us."

They'd stopped, not in the patch of moon light a few inches ahead, which would have been perfect. The reason that it would have been perfect wasn't the reason they'd stopped. Flash looked irritably at the tower of smoke somewhere over the skyline, impressed despite himself.

"Think Gwen's dad will be there?"

"Stacy?" Flash blinked. "Maybe. Her dad's kinda cool and all. Spider-Man's all kinds of cooler though. He'll probably be there."

He glanced over at the sudden silence.

"You okay? Ya looked little…out of it."

"That's because Gwen's seemed a little out of it lately." Sha Shan's grip tightened around Flash's arm almost imperceptibly. "We're not that close, I just…wonder what her dad thinks of Harry Osborn. That's all."

"I know what I think of Harry Osborn."

Sha Shan broke out of it, looking up. Flash was glaring at the smoke.

"Guys like Spidey, they do everything they have to, y'know? Everything they can. Guys like Osborn are…kinda like me."

She cupped a hand around his chin, turning him to look at her.

"You're only human Flash."

"Guys like me make mistakes. I guess that's why I always wanted to be like Spidey. Not totally human, y'know?"

He smiled, running a hand down her cheek.

"No right an' wrong. No problems, no doubts, no compromise. Just the right girl. The right time."

As first date kisses went he'd arguably had better, certainly more skilful. But he'd always remember this one.

---

"Who's in here?"

Dorian Bromwell flung the door to Peter Parker's room wide to come face to face with…Peter Parker.

"Doctor Bromwell?" came a muffled voice somewhere from the suspended t-shirt. Brown eyes stared out from the thatch work hair sticking out of the top.

"Peter?" Bromwell looked around at the disorganized room as Peter finished pulling the shirt over himself. He frowned.

"I was just getting my coat after getting your aunt to bed. Didn't hear you come in."

"I've, uh, I've been here all the time." Peter felt his teeth almost fuse together and tried to smile less idiotically, which just made him look more desperate. "Well, not _here_ here, but…around."

"Right." Bromwell's unimpressed gaze drifted from Peter to the open window. Then he wrinkled his nose as though stung.

"Has…someone been smoking in here?"

"Uh, no." Peter tried to burn the thought of his costume stuffed under the bed out of his mind.

"Right." Bromwell said again.

Peter could almost hear the rush of the drafted excuses as he held the doctor's gaze for a few seconds, but Bromwell beat him to it.

"Look Peter, I think you're a good kid, and that's the only reason I'm ignoring what's in front of me this time. But only this time. If there's a next time, I'll have to consider what kind of steps I need to take no matter who your aunt is. She deserves that from me and better from you."

He closed his eyes, trying to relax his face. He hadn't raised his voice the entire time he'd been speaking but the room still rang after he'd finished.

"You're a good kid Peter. You know that's who you are. But you need to remember that's you'll do the right thing when you have to, no matter what anyone says or thinks. You deserve it and they deserve it. That's how the world works."

Peter blinked, felt the gaze of Uncle Ben's photograph behind him, then nodded hesitantly.

"Right Doctor. Thanks."

Dorian nodded once, then pulled on his coat and headed downstairs.

Peter waited until he heard the front door close, then started throwing off his clothes. To late to do anything now anyway. Or maybe not…

He stood around in his undershirt and shorts for a while, then rummaged under the bed, pulling his phone out of his cartridge belt. He dialled a number he hadn't been sure he still had, waiting

Answering machine. Nuts. He thought about hanging up, but if he didn't do this now…

Beep.

"Hey, Liz. It's me. Peter."

He looked for something more, then simply sighed.

"Look, I'm not doing this over the phone, but if you _do_ get this…could we talk? At school tomorrow? I have a lot to apologise for and I need to do it even if you don't want to hear it."

He took a breath.

"Because you deserve it. And even though I was a jerk, I need to explain why I was because it's part of who I am. And I deserve to know if we can be friends after this, if we can move on. And if not, I'll still do the right thing. Because that's who I am too. That's how the world works."

There was a click. Peter leant forward desperately.

"Hello?"

Another click. Dead air.

Peter shut off his cell with a sigh. He tried. And he'd keep on trying tomorrow, no matter who he was. That _was_ who he was. He wasn't sure f it was enough but maybe he never would he. At least he'd know who he was.

Kinda.

He laid back on his bed and shut off the light, closing his eyes. Above him the shadow of a spider web in the corner of his window was cast gigantically across his wall, falling over him as he went to an uncertain but determined sleep.

---

For the record, Mysterio's spell list;

Dormite! = Sleep!

Fulmina venite! = Come lightning!

Tibi gratias agimus quod nihil fumas! = Thank you for not smoking!

Nullae satisfactionis potiri non possum! = I can't get no satisfaction!

and

Subsisto in nomen of diligo!=Stop in the name of love! (Hopefully)


End file.
